Shackled Ch. 04

Loving the feedback, but I have to add that this is no reflection of my political views. I write and WE write for entertainment sake, not to make a point. And yes, it's probably not your classic 'erotic romance' that you see on Lit, but it has its moments. If you want to read for just smut sake, move along. You've hit the wrong story!

*

Emma struggled to breathe in her moment of panic, but as his warm breath hit the side of her sensitive neck and ear, she stilled and slowly nodded. He was going to help her? Slimy toad was going to help her? It seemed too good to be true, but she had little choice in the matter. She needed an out and quickly.

His hand moved away and she sucked in a breath, trying to calm herself. "Okay..." Glancing over at him she held his gaze for a moment and then her soft slender hand slid into his own. Small steps. She tried to look casual and mentally counted to ten before she took the lead. Stepping forward her hand gripped his tightly and she pushed open the door.

As soon as the drizzle hit her face, she swiveled on her heels and faked a soft laugh, stumbling forward and against his body. A body that was a lot more solid than she had originally thought it would be. Full soft breasts cushioned against his chest as she moved in, her eyes open and acutely aware of their surroundings as their lips met.

The jolt of pleasure wasn't expected either and for a split second she fought the urge to close her eyes and explore it, but quickly shoved it aside. This was was NO time to get all gaga over a man who moments ago was rubbing her in all the wrong ways. Special forces were guarding the end of the alleyway behind him. Tucking her face close, she breathed against his ear. "Two special forces behind you, blocking the alleyway."

She made a show of nuzzling his neck, unable to prevent from inhaling his scent as she slid her free hand over his back in a mock hug. "I don't know how, but if there is anyway to get me out of here, please help me. I know you don't know me from Adam, but trust me when I tell you this, if they catch me I'm dead and so are a lot of other people."

****

He took his hand from her mouth, but kept his other arm around her arms and body.

Just in case.

Her response had him relaxing his grip and then she'd wordlessly taken his hand. Her hand was small in his. In fact, she was small, period. Granted, she was attractive, but good looks weren't going to get them out of this.

She'd turned towards the door at the end of the small corridor and led him through it onto the alley. It was still drizzling outside. Everything was shiny and it took his eyes a few seconds to adjust.

She laughed softly and turned to press her body against his. She raised her head towards his and he had to tilt down so that their lips could meet. She was a good actress and put on a good show. He was aware of her body pressing into his, especially her breasts.

Another time, Irish, and this would've been fun.

She pressed her head to the side of his face, her warm breath on his ear. She had a faint scent of whiskey from her coffee. Her lips brushed his ear.

Really fun....

His mind was brought back.

"Two special forces behind you, blocking the alleyway," she whispered.

He moved his head slightly to acknowledge her observation. There was a car at the end to which he was looking at, but he couldn't tell how many SPF's there were attached to it.

Two minimum, four maximum.

He knew there would be others guarding the front as well, so reinforcements were nearby.

He felt her slide her hand up his back in the act of an embrace.

She really is a good actress, he thought.

He had the plastic explosive in his pocket and he had the Glock. He hadn't reloaded it since his adventure with Fat Fuck, so it meant he only had three rounds.

Good idea, Hansen. So desperate to get a drink that you don't bother to get more ammo.

They stood there in an embrace. He was struggling to keep his side of the bargain and make it look realistic. He pressed her more closely and she began nuzzling his neck.

It doesn't look good, Hansen. Maybe you should have left the girl.

She kept her head in the crook of his neck and kissed him there, her arms still around him.

Or maybe not. He couldn't leave her.

And she felt so warm....

He moved his head again slightly, so that his mouth was just touching her ear and he made a show of kissing it gently.

"Look, down the front of my pants I have a gun," he said. "Don't take it personally, I am happy to see you, but that really is a gun."

He paused.

Always with the jokes, Hansen. Plenty of time for that later.

"I don't know if you can use a gun, but it's a Glock. It's old by your standards, but it's reliable. I only have three shots in it from a...um, er.... previous job tonight."

He kept kissing her ear. It felt good.

"I took the safety off before we got out here. I've pulled the rack so it's cocked, if you'll pardon the expression." He smirked, but there was no one to see it. "Before we part, I want you to put your hands down the front of my pants, pull it out and shove it down the front of yours."

He paused again.

"It'll just look like you're copping a feel," he said. "You know how to do that don't you? I'll stay pressed close to you to shield what you're doing."

He laughed lightly and kept his mouth close to her ear, interspersed with some kisses. He had his hand lightly pulling her head closer. He was sure now it would look realistic.

"Do you reckon you can do that for me, Irish?" he asked. "Once you've got it, I'll tell you what we do next. If we get out of this, I promise you won't have to put your hands down there again. Ok?"

He gave her a squeeze and hoped she'd get the hint and grab the gun.

"I promise," he said. "I'm good. I haven't been killed once so far."

First kisses, now fondling. You really are shameless, Hansen.

****

She'd sort of expected him to run after she begged him for a little help, but somehow the toad was slowly turning into Prince Charming. Okay, so maybe not that perfect and she doubted there would be a happily ever after, but at least he had a soul!

His instructions made her lips twitch involuntarily. He was a bigger smartass than she was and she sort of liked that.

The soft kisses to her ear made her shiver and she bit on her lower lip to stop herself from gasping out loud. His lips felt so good...warm and surprisingly silky. As distracting as they were, she did her best to listen. She'd never shot a gun in her life, but then again, she'd never been on the run either, slummed in in the streets or put anyone else's life in jeopardy.

Hands in his pants?! For a moment she wondered what sort of crap he was pulling, but he seemed dead serious. "You know how to do that don't you? I'll stay pressed close to you to shield what you're doing."

"I d-do." She stammered , earning her a light laugh and then his mouth was on her skin again and he was pulling her closer. Oh god! She hoped he wasn't full of shit and trying to be all bad and impressive, getting them both killed in process. "I'll do it...just don't get us killed, please." She whispered back, tilting her head to 'nibble' on his earlobe, only the nibble was more of a bite before she kissed it better for him.

With him squeezing her close, she let out a soft moan and ducked her head against, kissing his neck and breathing nervously, her soft breaths puffing against his bare skin as she slide her hands over his hard abs and pushed them into his pants, feeling the cool metal of his gun almost instantly.

Carefully she pulled it out and slid it down her own pants as casually as possible. "I got it." She breathed, "Nice gun by the way." She added, trying to ease the tension in her own mind. "It's big."

****

She whispered in his ear, her soft lips rubbing against it. Then she bit his ear lightly and soothed it with a kiss.

Irish just fucking bit me.

"Hey, none of that talk," he whispered back. "Didn't I just say I've never been killed before? I don't intend to make this the first time. You just have to trust me."

He kept holding her tight. It must feel terrifying for her to be in this situation with a total stranger.

So fucking what?

That's better, Hansen.

The rain was getting heavier and they were getting soaked. They would have to make a move soon.

He kept holding her close, her head nuzzled to his neck. She kept kissing him and slid her hand under his shirt and over the waist of his jeans. She had gone in a little to the right so she had to slide her hand back across towards the gun. Her hand felt cool and smooth on his body.

Shit, just get the gun. If you keep this up, I'll have to try and think with a boner.

He felt the gun slide out of his pants.

At least there's more room for me down there.

He pulled her closer and lowered his lips to her ear again.

"Nice one, Irish. Keep joking like that and you'll stay loose. If we get out of this, I'll make sure to shoot you with my big gun," he said. "We better do something or they'll start to get suspicious."

He paused.

"Oh, and I don't mean that," he added quickly.

He loosened his grip on her a little and stood beside her with his arm around her neck.

"The guy watching us inside saw me stagger out pretending to be drunk. I drink enough to have had a lot of practice at it so I'm sure I convinced him. That means they won't be surprised when we start to stagger with my arm around you. You pretend like you're trying to hold me up and you can make all sorts of disparaging remarks if you like."

He smiled at her.

Hansen? Disparaging? Who are you trying to impress?

"You can't see it yet, but about 15 meters down in my direction, there's a doorway. I drink here a lot, I know it's there. The door is flimsy. If we can get to within five meters of it I think I can smash it down with one hit."

He looked across at her.

"Do you think we can do that?" he asked. "I know it sounds a little short-term, but I'll work out what to do once we're in there. But we have to get moving. They won't sit there all night."

He pretended to stagger a little bit and the hand not around her neck flew over and touched her breast.

"Shit, sorry, Irish," he said.

The started to walk very slowly in the direction of the doorway.

"S'all I was sayin'," he shouted. "I always loved ya. She meant nuffin' to me."

Ten metres to go.

"By the way, Irish," he said. "If we're going to be so close for a while, what's your name?"

****

So much for keeping warm and dry. As the rain picked up, she could feel it seep through her baseball cap, wetting her hair, dribbling down the sides of the brim and trickling down the back of her parker. She couldn't stand the feeling of wet clothes clinging to her skin, but the longer she stood with him, the more soaked they were both getting.

When he loosened his hold, she caught his arm and gasped audibly when he accidentally grabbed her breast. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him, but he shot her the most charming of grins. Leaning into his side she made a show of trying to keep him steady as his bigger body continued to stagger and sway, his voice booming down the alley and bouncing off the walls.

"This is what happens when you drink too much!" She chided a little louder, "You stick your dick in places it shouldn't be stuck."

She felt his weight give a little, making her stagger as well as she wound an arm around his lean waist, her fingers gripping the side of his shirt and unwittingly bunching up the material, her skin rubbing up against his own. Her heart was pounding her ears. "I don't know why I came to help you...you know you break my heart when you call and you act like this."

She huffed and sniffed, "I hope it burns when you pee."

Had she just said that. Gawwwwd! At least he held his own and didn't laugh, although by the garbled sound he made, she was sure he'd maybe at least choked a little. Please let this plan work, please let this plan work. She thought to herself.

Five meters to go and she sighed softly, "It's Emma...my name is Emma. What's yours?"

"Jesus!" She suddenly exclaimed, "You weigh a freakin' ton!"

One of the men took a step forward and yelled, "Hey!"

Emma stiffened against him and gripped his shirt into a death grip.

****

She was good. They staggered towards the doorway, and she carried on exactly like a trash talking woman would when they found out ole' Bobby Lee had been screwin' around.

He coughed in surprise.

Geez, a bit harsh. She didn't have to be that good an actress....

"Awww, honey bunsszzsh.....'" he slurred.

They were nearly there, but he wanted to be in the best position in case he needed a few extra seconds. He didn't really know if he could smash the door on his first attempt, but there was no need to let her know.

She turned her head towards him and whispered her name. She really was attractive. She was soaked with rain and wet strands of her hair hung lank down the back of her neck. Sans makeup, soaked, in the dark and she still looked good. It made it easy for him to want to protect her.

At least for now.

A superficial bastard are you, Hansen.

He didn't get a chance to tell her his name. One of the SPF's took a step towards them and called.

"Hey."

Emma pressed into him closely and grabbed his shirt.

Fuck. Here goes.

"Whaddya want, copper?" he yelled up the alley towards the man. He was dressed in black combat gear and had a helmet over his head. The three other men with him all looked the same.

Quadruplets come to kill.

Him.

Her.

It didn't matter.

Kill.

He was leaning into her with his right arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Irish," he whispered, "but I'm going to stick my left hand down your pants on the count of three. You need to turn a little to make it easy for me."

He paused.

"I promise I'll buy you dinner later," he said very quietly.

Her hand loosened slightly on his shirt and he started to sway across her body to hide the fact he was going for the gun. He pressed his hand to her belly and left it there.

"Fuckin' cop bastards," he yelled, "can't even have a good time with your girlfriend...."

He pretended to be falling. His hand slid down the front of her jeans and pulled out the gun, keeping his eyes on the front guy. He wouldn't get through the helmet, but his suit would do him no good. Hansen had Gooby bullets. From China. He wasn't a patriot when it came to personal safety. He didn't care what he used.

Or where it came from.

Just do it.

Now.

He shoved Emma hard into the doorway and heard her crack against the door. The force against her gave him the momentum to push sideways and roll in the other direction, watching the cops. Their eyes didn't know who to follow: Emma or Hansen. Their heads turned to the doorway because Emma had disappeared into it.

Dumb fucks.

He turned on one knee and put a bullet in the front cop's knee.

Two bullets left.

Fuck.

As the cop went down, his men were distracted for a moment and he dove for the doorway. He landed right on Emma, but tried to take some of the sting out of his landing by placing his hands on either side of her before collapsing. She seemed ok, if dazed.

"Close your fucking eyes," he yelled at her. No time for niceties. He didn't have time to smash the door, so he shot the lock.

The sound at such close quarters nearly deafened him, but the door swung open.

One bullet.

Fuck.

Fuck

Fuck.

There was no gentleness. He grabbed Emma by the waist of her jeans, hoisted her up in one motion and threw her onto his shoulder.

He smashed through the door and ran into a large open space. There was a door at the other end. He couldn't hear the cops and he realised that they hadn't fired.

Yet.

Get to the door.

"By the way, Emma, I'm Liam," he said bouncing with her on his shoulder as he tried to make it across the open space towards the other door. "Enjoying our first date?"